


Snow White and Rose Red

by imagineagreatadventure



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Friendship, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 03:27:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagineagreatadventure/pseuds/imagineagreatadventure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snow White and Belle become friends in the wild of Fairy Tale Land. In Storybrooke, Mary Margaret deals with the crazy that is post-asylum Belle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow White and Rose Red

**Author's Note:**

> PROMPTS: “Just another summer story” - “the train never stops in Storybrooke” - accio-firewhiskey,
> 
> Mary Margaret’s pov of Rumbelle (really old Special Attack from little broken belles)
> 
> Snow White/Belle Friendship with a side dish of Rumbelle
> 
> originally posted on my tumblr, posted originally in May of 2012

“Once upon a time in a land not so far from here, a beautiful princess was born. She was born with dark ebony skin, red lips, and a voice that captured everyone’s heart. Her name was Aurora. Or as she was known by her friends- Briar Rose.”

Snow White listened to the tale that the young bard weaved. Snow had watched the young woman from the back window for the past two nights while she hid in the scratchy straw outside of the squalid tavern.

The young woman had been telling stories from all over the world. Snow could tell that the brunette woman was either well-traveled or well-read. It was hard to tell without speaking to her.

“And after defeating the dragon that Maleficent conjured, Phillip woke Aurora with a kiss of True Love,” the woman’s voice shook here, just a tiny bit, before she plowed into the next line, “And then they lived happily ever after.”

Snow blinked back a tear as the tavern cheered. Happily ever after was not in the cards for her.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen, I have to get going to bed-“

Groans and creaks of disappointment followed the announcement. Snow chanced a peek into the window.

The young bard grinned at the men like an indulgent mother.

She encouraged the image by saying, “Now boys, I’ll be back again tomorrow night. But I am tired and weary-“

“You could take a rest in my bunk,” a young ginger man called out with a roguish grin.

Snow rolled her eyes. So much for the mothering image.

The storyteller placed a finger on her lips. Snow was horrified- was she actually thinking about joining the boy?

“How about no?” she drawled out and the other men laughed as the boy slumped back into his seat with a goodhearted chuckle.

“Good night gentlemen,” the brunette laughed before heading upstairs where Snow assumed the bedrooms were.

Snow slid down the wall, her curiosity satiated for the moment.

She plucked a piece of straw and twirled it in her hands as the barkeep kicked the rest of the men out, with a loud guffaw.

Now all she had to do was wait.

Snow hated waiting. Especially on a cold night- her hands were freezing. She was ill-prepared to wait in winter weather.

But waiting was all she had done ever since the Huntsman saved her life, waited for the roads to clear, waited for a farmer to leave to take some food, waited for some rich lords to pass by to steal a few superfluous jewels.

Snow was beginning to wonder how much longer she could keep up this vagabond life. It wasn’t like she was trained for it. Waiting was just not in her nature. Doing was something she understood- hiding away from the world was not.

She almost wished that the Huntsman had killed her after all.

“Hello, miss are you still out there?”

Snow froze. She wasn’t sure if she should run away, stay put, or hide in the straw. A figure strode towards her. Snow held her breath and hoped that the darkness covered her.

“I’m sorry if I’m startling you, but you should come in. The winter chill is coming,” Snow blinked and realized it was the storyteller speaking to her.

Snow breathed. She knew she probably shouldn’t trust the other woman, but she was at her wits end- and besides - it was getting cold.

“Um, all- all right,” Snow untangled herself from the straw. The other woman grasped for Snow’s hand and pulled her out of the pile.

“Thanks,” Snow muttered before examining the storyteller. The woman was older than Snow previously thought, but still rather young. She was also astonishingly beautiful, with brown curls that lapped down her back.

“Come on inside- you can sleep in my bed,” the girl beamed at Snow before dragging her inside before Snow could say a peep.

“What?” Snow finally got out as they entered the tavern. There was only one candle lit in the tavern, where it was once lit up brighter than the sun it was now as eerie as one of her governess’ scariest stories.

The brunette let go of her hand, “I can make other arrangements with the barkeep’s wife in the morning, and as of right now I’ll sleep on the floor of the room.”

Snow stared at the girl. She was clearly insane. Who offered their own bed to complete strangers? “But- but why?”

The woman gave her an easy smile. The candlelight flickered on her face. Snow caught a glimpse of her bright blue eyes. They didn’t match her smile.

“Because I’ve been in your situation before. But-“ the woman held her hand up, “you won’t hear that story unless you accept my gift.”

This woman is definitely a mother- Snow thought as she followed her up the stairs after an exchange of names (“Snow White”, “Rose Red”).

Snow stared at the bed while Rose rearranged it. It was quite tiny, but it could’ve been halved and Snow would be happy with it. It was a bed. That was something she hadn’t had in months.

“Thank you for this. I- I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

Rose, who was bent over a bundle of blankets, craned her head to look at Snow. She beamed, “It’s no problem Snow.” She patted the blankets down onto the floor before rising up.

“So, my dear Snow, did you want a story?”

Snow nodded before collapsing onto the bed. A story might help me sleep, she thought, the nightmares might not show up.

She could hear Rose rustling around on the floor, “Well, would you like my story or someone else’s? Perhaps your own?”

“Do you often barter for stories?” Snow asked while she closed her eyes. She could hear Rose laugh.

“All the time actually,” Rose chortled, “It’s how I’m able to sleep in this room, drink the ale in this tavern, and eat the food in the market.”

Snow was hit with jealousy. She had been scavenging and journeying for so long, and yet this woman was able to walk around openly with no problems traveling. No Stepmother trying to cut out her heart, nothing to stop her. Rose had money, had stories, she had a life.

Snow had nothing.

She felt tears prickle her eyes but ignored them as they leaked onto her cheeks.

Rose remained blissfully unaware of her new roommate’s feelings, “So Snow, what story would you like to hear?”

A vision of a young Regina leapt into Snow’s sleep-addled mind - Regina who was young and in love- before Snow destroyed it with just a few words.

“Rose, if you don’t mind, I’d like to know how you know so many stories,” Snow hesitated, “Especially the ones about true love.”

Rose didn’t say anything for such a long time Snow was afraid she had fallen asleep. But then she spoke, “People are either eager to speak about their experiences with True Love or they’ll clam up. But most… most are eager. Many people ended up with their true love with little problems-“

Snow interrupted, “So true love is real?” Snow had begun to have her doubts about it. She had only seen it once, and it was so easily destroyed that Snow doubted it had been True Love at all.

Rose stood up and sat on the bed next to Snow. “I’ve seen True Love happen,” Rose whispered as she tucked Snow into the thin blanket with a shy smile.

“To who?” Snow asked before she could help herself. She blushed and was grateful that the darkness covered her embarrassment.

“Me.”

“… what happened? Didn’t it create happiness? Why aren’t you with him now?” Snow inquired as she turned to look at Rose.

Rose smiled, “Love doesn’t always work out that way. Love isn’t shallow, you can’t see what’s going to happen- it’s an adventure.” Her smile flickered, “for better or for worse.”

Snow waited a moment before speaking, “But if the worse destroys a person’s soul… how can true love be worth it?”

“If it was real, true, honest love- it shouldn’t destroy someone’s soul no matter how bad it gets. Lives can be destroyed but true love isn’t doing that.” Snow was struck by Rose’s face. The moonlight cast a soft light on her features, but they were hard as rock as Rose spat, “True hate destroys. And true hate will always live even where there isn’t any true love. So if you have the chance to grab true love… do it.”

~

Mary Margaret stole another peek at her new roommate.

Emma promised Mary Margaret that Miss Isabelle French was only living here for a few weeks.

That thought didn’t bother Mary Margaret one-way or the other. It was just strange.

She started to wonder why she couldn’t remember Isabelle, when according to all the documents about the girl, that Emma had been poring over the past few nights, Mary Margaret and Isabelle went to the same high school at the same time.

But Mary Margaret swore up and down she had never seen the woman before.

And the woman was so distinct with her dark curls and bright smile so she should remember her. She had never seen someone with eyes that blue. But all Mary Margaret could see when she looked at Isabelle was a girl who had been stolen away into an asylum for reasons unknown.

She could envisage Moe French locked up in jail, screaming at the Sheriff that he had nothing to do with this- despite his signature on every piece of paper that allowed it.

But stranger things had happened in Storybrooke than forged signatures. Just a few weeks ago Mary Margaret was locked away for killing her lover’s wife before Kathryn popped out of the ground alive and well. A little shaken but that was better than dead.

Mary Margaret looked over at Emma who was puzzling over the documents, trying to find something that would prove Moe French’s innocence.

Emma believed in him, so Mary Margaret did too. Emma believed in her after all, when all the evidence was to the contrary, so Mary Margaret figured she could give Moe French the same benefit.

Plus Isabelle was adamant that her father had no part in this. She was actually pointing the finger at the Mayor of all people. Despite the fact there was no evidence pointing in that direction, Mary Margaret thought that Regina being behind it all was a much easier pill to swallow.

So Emma was stuck reading papers while Henry and the other schoolchildren played outside in the summer heat. Mary Margaret had a nagging feeling that Emma would love to take Henry to the beach or on a car ride around town just talking about Operation Cobra but duty called.

While Emma glowered at the paperwork that littered their apartment, Mary Margaret decided it was safer for both Isabelle and herself to get out of the apartment.

Before Emma started cursing about the paperwork and Regina again. Mary Margaret didn’t want another ruined toaster.

“How about it, Isabelle, would you like to take a walk and get some fresh air? It’s a beautiful day!” Mary Margaret chirped as Isabelle sat on her makeshift bed otherwise known as the couch.

Isabelle didn’t look too pleased with the idea of a walk but Mary Margaret dragged her out with a few coaxing words and Emma’s snarls of “get out of here you guys are distracting me” with a little more cursing added to the mix.

Mary Margaret stretched her arms out with a smile and glanced back at the other woman.

Isabelle was still pale from being trapped in a room for, well, who knows how long, but then again, so was Mary Margaret. Living in Maine was not really the best plan for someone who wanted to be a tan goddess.

Isabelle patted down her borrowed sundress with a nervous smile at Mary Margaret.

“Well, where do you want to go Isabelle?”

Isabelle’s eyes darted down the street where Granny’s Diner, Mr. Gold’s pawnshop, the hospital, and other memorable Storybrooke locales were – but she didn’t seem to eager to head in that direction. Mary Margaret couldn’t blame her, the fact that the hospital was over there combined with the sheer amount of people who wanted to crane at the town oddball, she wouldn’t want to go there either.

“How about I show you the Troll Bridge?”

Isabelle wrinkled her nose, “The troll bridge?”

Oops. “Well, it’s not really a troll bridge, obviously,” she babbled, “it’s just what some prank some kid did a while back, they added an R to the toll bridge sign so it’s a troll bridge now.”

Isabelle nodded, her brows furrowed.

Mary Margaret flushed but gathered her wits with some semblance of dignity, “Uh, so would you like to see the bridge?”

“Sure.”

“All right then,” Mary Margaret swallowed her unease with a beam and Isabelle followed her down the street.

The first few minutes the women walked in silence. Mary Margaret had only felt this awkward when David and her were attempting to avoid one another.

Was Isabelle trying to avoid conversation with her? Or was she just too afraid to speak?

Mary Margaret took a deep breath once they passed the last sign of civilization, “So this bridge is actually really important to David and I.”

“David’s your boyfriend.”

Mary Margaret couldn’t tell if it was a question, “Um, yes, he’s the man who has stopped by a few times over the past week, if you remember.”

Isabelle caught up to Mary Margaret and touched her shoulder, “Is he your true love?” she whispered. “Did you find him?”

Mary Margaret blushed, “I don’t know if he’s my” she imitated quote marks, “true love or not, but I do love him quite a bit. Even when he is an idiot- which happens more often than not I assure you-“

Isabelle stopped in the middle of the road. Without a word she pointed at something in the distance and Mary Margaret clammed up. She looked to where Isabelle was pointing and sighed.

It was just the old train station. Mary Margaret always passed it by without noticing, it was dilapidated and not even Henry would dare to explore the place. If anyone took one step near it, Mary Margaret expected it would explode.

Isabelle’s face drained, “Mary Margaret, what, what is that?”

“It’s just the train station. It’s been deserted for as long as I can remember-“ Mary Margaret started to speak before Isabelle sat down in the road.

“Isabelle! Isabelle, are you all right?” Mary Margaret crouched down beside the girl. She was shaking.

“Is this where you were taken?”

Isabelle looked at Mary Margaret and all Mary Margaret could think of was a deer in headlights.

But she spoke anyways.

“No. But,” Isabelle swallowed, “What is he doing here?

Mary Margaret hesitated but swiveled around to face Mr. Gold.

Who was smirking, but that wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was how he avoided looking at Isabelle. It vaguely reminded Mary Margaret of when David and her were dodging each other to avoid any temptation. But why would Mr. Gold of all people-

“Hello ladies,” his Scottish voice distracted her from any crazy thought.

“Hello, Mr. Gold,” Mary Margaret smiled cautiously, conscious of the fact Isabelle was splayed onto the ground like a small child. She stepped in front of the poor girl, “How may I help you?”

He bared his teeth into something he might call a grin, “I was about to ask you the same question Miss Blanchard, but I suppose we’re all good then. Except for Miss French, perhaps?” He bent down to face the woman but she just stared at him.

“What do you want?” she seethed.

Mary Margaret was taken aback.

“Um, how do you two know each other exactly?”

Isabelle’s eyes flashed, “Why don’t you ask Mr. Gold!”

Before either Mary Margaret or Mr. Gold could do anything, Isabelle pounced up and paced towards the dilapidated tracks.

Mary Margaret had never seen Mr. Gold so disturbed.

“Um, she’s still recovering,” Mary Margaret attempted to smile but kept looking over at Isabelle.

“I can see that.”

“Dr. Hopper says it’s normal for someone who has been in solitary confinement for so long to act a little funny-“

“She’s always been a little funny,” Mr. Gold frowned.

Mary Margaret stared at him, “So you do know each other?”

“Quite well, Miss Blanchard. She worked for me.”

“That-that’s it?”

He smiled as he watched Isabelle climb the fence that separated the tracks from the road, “Is it ever?”

She stood there, perturbed by the thoughts that plagued her as he started to limp over to where Isabelle was sitting (oh dear lord she was sitting in the middle of the tracks- how was she going to explain this to Emma), “Don’t worry Miss Blanchard, it’s just another sad tale that this town has to offer.”

Mary Margaret was sick of sad tales.

~

It had been a week of trading stories, both good and bad, funny and sad, before Snow found out Rose’s real name.

“Belle fits you,” Snow grinned as she gave her best courtly lady impression, “You are after all very beautiful.”

“Oh shush,” Belle pretended to throw the bundle of sticks she was carrying at Snow’s head, “It’s just a name.”

“Whatever you say, Madam,” Snow giggled.

Living and traveling with Belle had been the best decision Snow made ever since she left the Huntsman. She didn’t feel quite so alone and Belle had quite a few tricks up her sleeve.

“Now remember, we don’t steal unless we have to, and we only steal what we need and what someone can afford to lose. For instance, if I’m stealing from a barn I only steal one egg because that’s all I really need to survive until I find a squirrel or something.”

“A squirrel?” Snow was aghast. She had been mostly surviving on berries and what people gave her the past three months. She couldn’t imagine killing an animal.

“Squirrels are easy to catch even if you don’t have a weapon on hand,” Belle said as she grabbed another stick, “They’re tricky devils though, so be careful.”

“Um, all right.”

This wasn’t the first time Belle tried to teach Snow the ways of survival, earlier in the week, when Belle was still Rose, Belle attempted to show how to barter using stories, so Snow could be a bard when she was on her own again.

It didn’t go very well, and the real moral of the story was that you shouldn’t barter stories if you can use gold thread to buy your way out of anything.

“Well, stories and a little bit of golden thread” Rose gave Snow a guilty grin when the village guards finally let them out of their stocks.

“Why didn’t we use that to buy the bread? Instead of attempting to barter for stories with someone who wasn’t quite interested,” Snow said.

“I was trying to teach you how to barter using nothing but stories, but it uh, didn’t go quite as planned,” Rose offered.

“You can say that again,” Snow muttered. The guards weren’t rough with them, just a little too eager to lock pretty girls up in the stocks. She was truly grateful that the golden thread was even an option.

“How on earth did you get the gold anyways?” Snow asked, eying the thread as if it were a dragon egg- dangerous and fragile.

“Stolen from my true love,” Rose confided with a whisper of a smile.

Snow goggled at her. Rose shifted in her shoes. “What? He kicked me out, what was I supposed to do? It’s not like I could go home. I knew I had to do something. So I stole golden thread that he uh, happened to have,” Rose retorted.

“Who is your true love?” Snow sputtered. And why did she still love him after getting kicked out, Snow wondered.

Rose’s mouth turned grim, “No one who will help us.”

Snow quickly learned that bringing up Rose’s true love wasn’t a good idea. Rose was much more eager to learn about Snow’s predicament with the Evil Queen than to reveal her own situation.

But despite the hesitancy, Rose did give Snow her true name.

Belle smiled at Snow, “Well, hurry up with the kindling, we need to make a fire before it gets too dark.”

“Won’t the fire alert the Queen’s men?”

Belle shook her head, “We should be far out of reach of the men. They should be looking to the east- since I dropped a lot of clues that we were headed that way- and since you gave your real name,” Belle gave her a pointed look and Snow flushed, “they’ll probably follow the clues I left behind.”

“But instead we’re headed south-“

“Away from most of the countries that your stepmother could bully and down to where the sea awaits the two of us.”

Snow imagined the warm, salty wind on her face instead of the chill that surrounded her.

“I wish we were there now.”

“So do I.”

Snow White settled herself into the grass as Belle worked on the fire. Belle frowned as the flint pieces she bartered for with a tale of a shoemaking elves decided to be contrary.

“Why isn’t this stupid thing working?” she gritted out. She threw the flint rocks onto the ground in a huff.

Snow smiled, “Here let me try!” She dove for the pieces flint and began to hit them together to the side of the kindling pile.

To Snow’s utter amazement, she got a fire started.

“Good job Snow,” Belle beamed at her as she huddled by the fire, “Now we won’t catch our deaths.”

“At least not by the cold,” Snow grinned.

Belle grimaced, “Well hopefully not by your Evil Queen either.”

Snow imagined the guards who were once sworn to protect her cutting her heart out of her chest. She shuddered.

Belle crept over and patted Snow on the head, “It’s all right. She won’t find you.”

“Belle, she’s going to find me at some point. There’s only so much I can take. She probably knows where I am and who you are by now. She has magic.”

Belle’s eyes gleamed, “Magic doesn’t frighten me. There are worse things in the world than magic.”

“Like what?”

“Like children dying by the hands of ogres, being forced into a marriage to a man you can’t stand, the tears of a loved one. Magic has nothing on the loss of life-“

“But if magic causes it-“ But Snow’s protests were cut short with a kind smile from Belle.

“But you see, Snow, all magic comes with a price. And most of the time, the price isn’t worth it. Magic is just another form of power. And we all have power inside of us.”

“Like love?” Snow asked, feeling like a small child at the knee of her mother.

Belle’s eyes watered and Snow regretted bringing up love, “Yes, like love.”

The two women sat in silence as the dark rolled in and sleep captured them both.

Snow knew something was wrong when she awoke. Belle was already standing, the fire was out and she couldn’t hear even one bird chirping.

And there should be birds even with the weather so cold.

“Someone’s here,” Belle whispered when she noticed Snow’s eyes open.

Snow sprang up, “It’s the Queen!”

“Shush,” Belle frowned, “If it is the Queen, you’ll reveal us. We need to sneak out of here. I don’t think they realize we’re around here yet, but we must hurry.”

Men’s voices carried to their little spot on the hill. Belle hid behind a tree and glanced down.

“They’re on the road,” she murmured, “I can’t see anyone else around. Look on the other side.”

Snow crept to the other side and saw more soldiers camped out on the hill. They were much closer than the other guards.

Fear leapt into her throat, “Belle, they’re over here too.”

Belle said a few choice words that Snow had never heard from any lady before inhaling deeply.

“Fine. We’ll have to distract them.” Belle undid her cloak and tore at her clothes.

“But how?” Snow’s eyes widened as she realized what Belle was about to do, “No Belle, you can’t they’ll kill you!”

“Not if I pretend you hurt me and I want vengeance. She wants to believe you’re a selfish little girl right?”

Snow nodded and Belle smiled grimly, “See. This will work.”

It had to.

Snow started to protest but Belle placed a hand on her mouth, “Snow, it’ll be all right. Just get out of here. There’s a village about 20 miles east of here. Please go! They don’t want me- they want you! Remember stay alive, steal eggs if you must, lie about your name. Just live!”

Belle kissed the top of Snow’s head before creeping off to the road. Snow stood parked on the top of the hill watching and waiting. She knew this wasn’t going to turn out as planned.

She just knew it.

It didn’t take long for Snow to be proved right. As the men crowded around Belle with malicious smiles that were reminiscent of men in taverns who had too much ale to drink- Snow wanted to cry out for her, but remained silent.

She didn’t realize the worse hadn’t come yet.

Within a few moments another soldier on a horse came by. But it was no soldier.

It was Regina. Who was wearing dragon leather breeches and ridiculous black hat with a feather in it. Snow wasn’t sure whether to laugh or to cry.

“No,” Snow whispered and she slid down the hill. Miraculously, no one noticed her as they were all focused on Regina and Belle.

Belle looked like she had been struck in the face.

Regina, evil, evil Regina smirked at Snow’s friend, “Well, well, what do we have here?”

Snow could see Belle’s clenching her fists. “You. You’re the woman who has caused me so much pain. You tricked me!” Belle seethed.

Regina pouted, “Aw my dear… or should I say dearie?” Her lips twisted into a cruel smile, “I was just trying to help a poor lovesick girl.”

Belle started towards her with her fists raised but was quickly bound by the tree branches around her. Snow closed her eyes. She couldn’t let herself cry.

“He will know,” Belle cried out and Snow wondered who he was. Her true love? Her father?

“Ah but that’s the trick of it,” Regina hissed, “He’s too much of a coward to see if I lied about your suicide.”

All Snow could hear was a cry and a thump. She peeked around the tree and saw Regina order her men to carry Belle into the carriage.

Before long the parade of guards were on their way- never once noticing the girl who silently sobbed behind a tree.

~

“Isabelle!” Mary Margaret shouted, trying to get the crazed woman back on the other side of the fence.

Mr. Gold waved a hand, “It’s all right, Miss Blanchard. I’ve got it covered.” He continued to limp over to where Isabelle sat. She was still just sitting there, smiling. It was completely unnerving.

“Miss French,” he called out, “would you please come back over here? We can talk about our,” Mary Margaret was almost amused to see Mr. Gold fumble around for the right word but was too distracted by Isabelle’s smile.

“past,” he settled on, waving his cane around like a child waves around a toy wand.

Isabelle’s smile grew, “Why would I do that? We can all talk about our past,” Mr. Gold winced, “right here.”

“Mr. Gold, I know the train hasn’t stopped here for years, for God’s sake, the tracks are completely ruined but we must get Isabelle off the tracks!”

He turned to her, creases lining his face, “Why? We should let the troubled girl sit there in time out since she’s acting like a petulant child.”

“Says the biggest child of them all,” Isabelle called out.

Mr. Gold turned red and swore. Mary Margaret had never seen Mr. Gold lose his cool. She had never imagined he would lose his temper over a young lady in a sundress. She supposed weirder things had happened in Storybrooke.

She just couldn’t think of anything at the moment.

“Miss French, can we please discuss whatever you want to discuss in private?” he fumed. Mary Margaret wondered if steam was really coming out of his ears or if it was just her imagination.

Isabelle cocked her head, “I suppose.” Her blue eyes flashed dangerously and Mary Margaret almost felt sorry for Mr. Gold. Almost.

He was still the town villain after all.

Isabelle stood up, “But only if you somehow manage to make it over here. Over the fence. Then we will discuss whatever you want.” Her smile reminded Mary Margaret of Mr. Gold’s. Mary Margaret shuddered.

Now that was a scary thought.

It was already bad enough that they obviously knew one another- very well- but the idea that they had rubbed off one another, well that would haunt Mary Margaret’s nightmares.

Mary Margaret was starting to hope that the girl really was mad if the alternative was that she was a friend of Mr. Gold’s willingly.

“Belle,” Mr. Gold growled.

Isabelle’s eyes twinkled at the nickname, “What is it Mr. Gold? Are you too afraid to climb over?”

Mr. Gold’s shoulders tensed. Mary Margaret strolled to him, “Mr. Gold, please let me call Emma or maybe Dr. Hopper. I can handle this.” She tried to smile but he shushed her.

He shuffled over to the fence and dropped his cane to the dirt. Isabelle’s smile grew wider as he placed one foot on the fence.

“Stop!”

Mr. Gold and Isabelle turned towards her and Mary Margaret was embarrassed by the fact she was the one who spoke. But she shifted into teacher mode.

“Isabelle, do you really think it’s a good idea for a grown man with a hurt knee to be climbing over a fence? And do you think it’ll look good on your psychiatric record for you to be doing something like this to him?” Mary Margaret lectured, hands on her hips.

Isabelle tried to hide a smile but was unsuccessful while Mr. Gold just looked at Mary Margaret like she was another person.

She had enough of it, “Now really, both of you stop acting like adolescents and get over here.”

Mr. Gold’s foot slipped out of the fence. Isabelle sheepishly smiled at Mary Margaret as she climbed over and whispered her apologies.

Mary Margaret put her hands up, “God knows I have NO room to judge whatever is going on here-“

“You got that right,” Mr. Gold muttered. Mary Margaret resisted the urge to slap him.

Isabelle however did not.

“That’s for her!” Another slap, “That’s for my father!”

Mary Margaret grabbed Isabelle’s arm before she wound up again. Mr. Gold’s left cheek was starting to glow pink.

“You, of all people, have no right to make comments on other people’s lives. You’ve messed up enough lives, mine included,” Isabelle shouted as Mary Margaret grabbed her waist to try and pull her down.

“Seriously?” she asked Mr. Gold, “What did you to her?” She started to feel like she was channeling Emma.

“I didn’t believe her.”

“Damn straight you didn’t you coward,” Isabelle spat.

“But, Belle,” again with the cutesy nickname, Mary Margaret thought, “I saved you as soon as I found out-“

“You could’ve found out much earlier if you weren’t a God damned coward.” Before Mary Margaret could force her to the ground Isabelle escaped from her grasp. She faced Mr. Gold with ice in her eyes, “You have to earn True Love.”

“But I saved you,” he protested.

“Saving me means nothing. Any decent human being would save another person. Though I suppose suggesting that you are a decent man, is a little ridiculous.”

This is true.

“Love is more than that and you should know that better than anyone,” Isabelle said, her voice cracking with every word.

Mary Margaret had never felt more awkward.

“Um we should go. Uh, until next time Mr. Gold?” Mary Margaret pulled at Isabelle’s hand and to her relief, Isabelle followed.

Mary Margaret could feel Mr. Gold’s stare but knew it wasn’t directed at her.

How the hell did these two even- but really, they were together at some point? Before her stay at the asylum. How did Mr. Gold pull that off?

She stole a glance at Isabelle’s face which had been schooled to a nonchalant expression.

“Isabelle-“ Mary Margaret started, uncertain how to begin. What does someone say to a woman who obviously has a few screws loose? The idea of them together… what kind of story could that be?

Isabelle turned to Mary Margaret and smiled. She looked so different than just a few minutes before, she looked like a princess.

“It’s just Belle.”


End file.
